All Eyes on Ryan
by jublke
Summary: When Ryan ignores a health problem for too long, the team steps in to take care of him. Set sometime after 10x14, but before the finale. [not complete]
1. Chapter 1

I do not own _CSI: Miami_. If I did, Ryan and Natalia, Calleigh and Eric, and Horatio and Marisol would all be happily married, Sam would be in jail, Walter would have more screen time, and Alexx would come back and boss Tom around.

This piece is set after 10x14, and contains a non-spoiler reference to a scene in that episode. But the scene nagged at me, and this story is the result. I have quite a bit written and waiting to be posted, but I am still searching for a plot, so bear with me.

My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading. Any remaining errors are mine.

Note: I am not a doctor. If I have mistreated the lovely Ryan Wolfe, at least I was nicer to him than the writers of the series were. Oh, wait. I mean, let me know in the comments. :P

* * *

Calleigh Duquesne stepped into the break room and savored the quiet. The wall clock read 7:10 am and she was eager to start her workday. The southern blond loved mornings at the crime lab, the anticipation of catching criminals by following the clues that they invariably left behind. Her fingers itched to pull a trigger, to trace a bullet back to its source by studying its striations. The truth was always out there, just waiting to be discovered.

Deep in thought, she walked toward the sink to fill her small hot pot with water. Unexpected movement caught the corner of her eye; she whirled to face it.

"Ryan! What are you doing here so early?"

The younger man looked at her blearily from where he was sprawled on the sofa. He wore yesterday's clothes, now wrinkled: a light plaid button down shirt and tan slacks. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "I worked a double. Never went home." He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and blinked at her. Stifling a cough, he ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Her gaze narrowed as she set the pot on the hot plate. "You should go home and get some sleep." Her eyes raked over him, taking in the pale skin layered with a thin sheen of sweat. Ryan was absently rubbing his right temple; he stopped when he noticed her studying him.

He stood up and stretched. "I have to go to court this morning." Yawning, he added, "I'd better hit the shower."

Calleigh caught his eye as he walked toward the door. "Do you want me to make you some tea?" She waved a lemon tea bag at him.

He stopped and squinted at her as if she'd asked him a difficult question. "You know, I'd-" Ryan paused to clear his throat. "I'd like that." He graced her with a genuine smile, the look of relief on his face almost palpable.

She smiled warmly back at him. "Two sugars, right? I'll leave it steeping for you on the bench in the locker room."

Her smile lasted until he said thanks and left the room. Once he was gone, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Natalia.

* * *

"... And then Ryan warned me that the riding crop might bite!" Standing in the break room of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, Samantha Owens could barely contain her laugher.

Walter Simmons found himself chuckling too. "So, you're telling me that Wolfe's afraid of riding crops AND snakes?" He nodded at the pretty, newly-promoted CSI. She smiled back at him before heading toward the door. "Good to know," Walter called from his spot at the break table, where he was eating his lunch. "Bye, Sammy."

The large man completely missed the worried glance that passed between Calleigh and Natalia. Walter gestured happily at his co-workers. "You hear that? Wolfe can't tell a riding crop from a snake. Some outdoorsman he is! I've got enough ammo to tease him with for a month." He leaned back in the chair, expecting his wide smile to be returned. When no such mirth was forthcoming, he studied the two women standing stoicly across the room from him. Cocking his head to one side, Walter asked, "Am I missing something here?"

Natalia folded her arms and stared at the ground. Calleigh looked at her, sighed, and addressed Walter. "You might be. Walter, have you noticed anything different about Ryan lately?" It was her interrogation voice, and Walter's senses immediately went on high alert.

"No," he replied hesitantly, his voice stretching out the short word. "Should I have?"

Before Calleigh could answer, Eric burst into the room, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. "Where's Wolfe?"

Natalia caught his eye. "He and Horatio had to go to court. What's wrong?"

Eric rolled his eyes and threw a sheaf of papers on the break table, narrowly missing a collision with Walter's sandwich. "This." Walter picked up the top few sheets of case notes. The printer ink was faded, making the text almost impossible to read. "I wanted to review his notes on Reynolds case over lunch but I'm going to have to reprint the whole set." Eric grabbed the remaining pages from the table and dumped them into the recycling bin. "I don't have time for this! Ryan said he'd print this out for me. He should have checked to make sure the type was legible." Eric huffed and folded his arms across his tight-fitting aqua T-shirt.

Calleigh's green eyes grew thoughtful. "Maybe he did."

A look that Walter couldn't interpret passed between Calleigh, Eric, and Natalia. Eric swore. His eyes dropped to the floor and he shook his head before returning to meet Calleigh's gaze. "Not again, damn it!" He sighed unhappily and ran a hand through his hair. "That would explain a lot. Did you say anything to him?"

She shook her head. "I just realized it this morning. Natalia and I got to talking and-"

"Hello!" Walter cut in, worry rapidly spreading across his features. "What are we talking about here?"

Natalia chewed a fingernail and Eric resumed studying the floor. Calleigh gave Walter an appraising look but didn't say anything.

Walter could feel his heart rate accelerating. "Hey, if something's up with Ryan, I need to know. We're a team, right?"

His co-workers flicked glances at each other before seemingly coming to a silent agreement. Natalia walked across the room, locked the door to the break room, and returned to stand by Calleigh's side.

The blond dropped into a chair opposite Walter. Eric and Natalia sat on either side of her. The Cuban spoke first. "What we're about to tell you doesn't leave this room, Walter."

The large man nodded, apprehension clear in his expression. "Okay."

"What do you know about Ryan's eye injury?" Calleigh asked.

Walter shrugged. "He got hit with a nail from a nail gun a few years back. There were rumors flying around this place that he had keratitis, nerve damage, or worse, but it turned out H was just using him to find the mole. Ryan's damned lucky there was no lasting damage." As the words left his mouth, Walter tasted an unhappy sense of foreboding. Before Calleigh could continue, he added, "Wolfe wasn't that lucky, was he?"

As she shook her head, Natalia continued. "Ryan's prone to getting infections in that eye. It's his dominant eye. And when it's acting up ..."

"He makes mistakes in the field," Eric supplied.

"Like mistaking a riding crop for a snake," Walter breathed, feeling incredibly guilty that he had laughed at his friend just moments before. He looked at his co-workers. "How often does this happen?"

Calleigh replied, "Two times that we know about since his initial injury. Ryan isn't exactly forthcoming when his eye is bothering him. He's as bad as H at admitting when he's got a problem. The concern is that one day he's going to wait too long and pick up an infection that antibiotics can't cure."

"And then what?" Walter bit the inside of his lip as he waited for the answer.

"He might need a corneal transplant. Or go blind."

Walter shuddered at Calleigh's words and put a hand to his face. "So, all those times I've seen Wolfe squinting at evidence I should've been concerned." His shoulders slumped forward as he stared at the ground.

Natalia patted Walter on the shoulder as she shook her head. "Ryan always does that when he's concentrating. But if he starts squinting all the time-"

"Or if his eye looks red and swollen-" Eric added.

"Or if he misjudges distances and starts dropping things in the lab-" Natalia supplied.

"That's when we start to worry," Calleigh concluded.

"Like now," Walter said, and three heads nodded back at him in unison.

"We need to get him to the eye doctor," Eric said. "Today."

The determined looks on his friends' faces puzzled Walter. "But if Ryan knows he has a problem, then that should be easy, right?"

"Wrong, Walter," Eric said. "It only makes it harder."

Natalia's voice was soft. "Ryan's in denial about his eye. He'll just ignore the problem until things get really, really bad."

Walter ran a hand down his face. "I ... I had no idea."

"And we want to keep it that way," Eric warned. "If Internal Affairs picks up on this ..." He shook his head and stood up. "We need to find him. When does he get out of court? I'll drive him over there myself."


	2. Chapter 2

This is a work of fanfiction and none of the characters are mine. Darn it. My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading and CSIMiamiFAN, Margie, and The flying Arya for your comments. I appreciate it. :)

* * *

Ryan Wolfe sat alone in his darkened apartment, thankful beyond measure that his court appearance had been brief. He'd clocked out as soon as he and Horatio had returned to the lab. After working a double followed by a court date, he finally had some time off. Absently, he rubbed his right temple and squinted at the TV. The midday news had been replaced by a soap opera, but Ryan didn't really care. It was just on for background noise anyway. He grabbed the pill bottle next to the couch and extracted four ibuprofen gel caps. Swallowing them with a swig of water, Ryan groaned and lay down on the sofa. Shivering, he pulled the afghan that his bubbe had crocheted for him up and over his body.

The banging started fifteen minutes later. Ryan buried himself deeper into the couch cushions and tried to ignore it.

"Wolfe! You in there?"

It was Eric's angry voice, and Ryan wondered what he'd done now to trigger it. The Cuban hadn't been too happy when Ryan had backed the Hummer into his car the day before yesterday. Ryan shook his head. There'd been no damage that he could see and Delko had agreed. So why was the man at his door in the middle of the day?

"Ryan, open up, man."

That was Walter's voice, and now Ryan was worried. Eric and Walter still weren't on the best of terms due to Eric's brief stint as a spy for the DA's office. If they were here together, that didn't bode well. Something was wrong. Ryan's tired mind tried - and failed - to come up with a reason for the two men to be on his door step. He sighed and stood up, feeling a sudden burst of nausea. _Damn migraine_ , he thought.

He walked slowly to the door, fighting a wave of vertigo. _I've gotta get some sleep._ Flipping the deadbolt, he opened the door to find two very concerned CSIs standing on his porch.

"Hey," he greeted, rubbing his right temple. He shielded his eyes as he tried to adjust to the sunlight streaming into his apartment. "What's up?"

"Wolfe, you look terrible," Walter said. Ryan's skin was blotchy and his bloodshot eyes were red-rimmed.

Ryan narrowed his gaze and folded his arms across his threadbare gray T-shirt. "I was sleeping, Walter. People do that after they've worked two days straight."

"You're sick, Ryan. We're here to take you to the doctor." Delko had his arms crossed and fixed Ryan with the same look that he gave criminals before throwing them in lock-up.

The younger man shook his head and frowned. "I'm fine, Delko. I just need some sleep." He rubbed his right eye and glared at his co-workers. "Don't you have criminals to catch, or something?"

A look of concern passed between the two men before Walter spoke up. "You need to go to the eye doctor, Ryan."

Ryan dropped his hand from his eye self-consciously. He peered up at the big man. "What're you talking about?"

"I've already called Dr. Medby," Eric added. "She'll fit you in whenever we get there."

"You did WHAT?" Ryan could feel his hands curling into fists.

Walter stepped closer and put a big hand on his smaller friend's shoulder. "Ry, have you looked in a mirror today?"

Ryan tried to ignore the chills coursing through his body at that question as he ran to the bathroom. Fighting nausea, he gripped the sink and peered in the mirror. His face was blurry and distorted, but his eye didn't look that bad to him. At least, it wasn't bright red or grotesquely swollen. He splashed some water on his face and went back out into the hallway. His co-workers were now standing in the entry area, looking tense.

Ryan tried to defuse the situation. "Look, guys, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I'm fine. I just need a good night's sleep." He stifled a cough and rubbed his right temple again.

Eric gave Walter a look that Ryan interpreted as exasperation. Walter nodded and said, "How long have you had that headache?"

Ryan's eyes flicked to Walter's face, a guilty look crossing his own. "I get migraines sometimes, Walter. You know that." Ryan folded his arms.

"You backed into my car two days ago," Eric said, frowning.

"Hey, Eric, I told you. I'm sorry about that."

"Wolfe, you mistook a riding crop for a snake when you were out in the field with Sam," Walter said, gently.

Ryan dropped his arms to his sides and looked at the floor, seething. _Why did she have to tell everyone?_

"What if you made the opposite mistake?" Eric pushed. "What if you thought a snake was a riding crop? Sam could have been in danger."

Ryan's fists were now balled at his sides. "That did not happen, Delko. Sam was never in any danger."

"Except when you were driving, right?"

Ryan took a deep breath and reminded himself that punching Delko was not going to help anything. The guy was relentless when he wanted something. "I let her drive," Ryan admitted.

"So, you know you've got a problem then," Walter stated. "Either that or you've really got it bad for Sam-" Ryan blushed, "-because I've never seen you willingly give up a chance to drive a Hummer."

Ryan lifted his head and looked each of his co-workers square in the eyes, barely containing his frustration. "I'm fine."

Eric shook his head. "No, you're not. I'm not letting you do this, Ryan. You're not gonna go blind on my watch." Before Ryan could protest, he added, "Just do this for me, okay? Let us take you to the doctor."

As Walter frowned, Eric turned to him. "It's my fault his eye's messed up to begin with. It was my call-out. Ryan never should have been at that trailer." His words were pained and tinged with old guilt.

Ryan sighed, defeated. If Eric had resorted to begging, he must be very worried indeed. "Fine. Let me grab a jacket first."


	3. Chapter 3

Not mine. My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading. I appreciate the comments of heidiblack14, James Birdsong, and CSIMiamiFAN on the last chapter.

Note: I am not a doctor. If Ryan needs better medical care, tell me in the comments.

* * *

Walter looked up from a magazine as his friend emerged from the back room of the ophthalmologist's office and walked toward the receptionist's desk. "Hey, Wolfe," he greeted as he stood up. "What did the doctor say?"

Ryan blinked one bloodshot eye and took a step back. His other eye was covered with a white gauze patch. "What're you doing here, Walter? I told you I was taking a cab home." With a deep frown, he added, "I watched you drive off with Delko." Ryan instantly adopted a guarded posture, folding his arms and standing with his feet apart. He would have looked more intimidating, Walter thought, if he hadn't been wearing a hoodie, baggy sweats, and old tennis shoes with missing laces. His face was deathly pale and the eyepatch only added to his air of frailty. As it was, his friend appeared both ill and annoyed, but Walter had known Ryan long enough to hear the edge of panic creeping into his voice, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Walter approached Ryan carefully. "It's all right, man. Delko had to get back to work on the Reynolds case. I told H I needed the afternoon off. Personal business." Before Ryan could ask, he added, "I didn't tell him anything, Ry. I just figured you needed a ride home."

Ryan turned back to the receptionist. "Well, I don't."

As Ryan was paying his bill, Dr. Medby appeared from the back. She handed Ryan two small slips of paper. "Don't forget these, Mr. Wolfe." She eyed Walter and nodded meaningfully at her patient. "Remember to keep that right eye covered until our next appointment." She handed him a pair of cardboard sunglasses with dark plastic lenses. "You need to protect your eyes, Ryan. They're very sensitive to light right now and that's triggering your headaches. I'll see you in two days. Do you need a note for work?"

Before Ryan could speak, Walter answered for him. "Yes, he does." Even with just one eye on him, the big man could feel the heat of Ryan's death glare.

Dr. Medby smiled. She added her signature to a pre-printed page and held it out. Lacking depth perception, Ryan struggled to retrieve it and Dr. Medby placed the document into his hand. "I've written this for a week. With any luck, we should be able to move you from the ointment to a drop long before then." She gave her patient an appraising look. "But only if you take care of yourself, Mr. Wolfe." At Ryan's pained expression, her face softened. "Go home and get some rest."

The thank you that Ryan gave her was nearly inaudible. Shoving the cheap sunglasses, prescriptions, and the form into the front pocket of his hoodie, Ryan stormed toward the door. Walter practically had to chase him to catch up.

Once they were in the hall, Walter asked, "So, looks like we need to hit a drugstore before we head home, Wolfe. Where do you normally get your prescriptions filled?"

The younger man turned and snapped, "What the hell was that, Walter?" As the big man shrugged, Ryan ranted, "It's none of your business if I need a note for work or where I get my prescriptions filled! I didn't ask for your help." He stomped off down the hall.

Walter sighed and followed him. "Wolfe-"

Ryan whirled around in a fury. He swore at Walter, using some particularly colorful language, before resuming his trek to the lobby.

Walter counted to ten before replying to Ryan's retreating back, his voice clear and deadly calm. "You know, I used to feel sorry for you. Poor little Wolfe. Dealt a bad hand. Had a rough childhood, always getting dumped on at work. But you know what? You can be a selfish bastard." As Ryan stopped abruptly and turned back with a look of surprise, Walter continued, "You've got so many people who care about you and you push us all away." Ryan folded his arms and stared at the floor with his good eye. "Do you have any idea how worried Eric, Natalia, and Calleigh are right now?" Walter shook his head. "No, of course you don't. Because you're too busy standing there, throwing yourself a pity party." He threw his hands in the air and turned away from Ryan. "Forget it, man," he called over his shoulder. "I've got better things to do. Find your own damned ride." He walked toward the parking garage, his heart heavy.

"Walter-"

"I'm not bluffing, Wolfe. If you can't be bothered to take care of yourself-"

"I'm sorry." The words startled Walter enough that he whirled around and walked back to his friend's side. "I ... uh ... I'm not mad at you," Ryan continued, arms loose at his sides. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm just ... frustrated." The single eye he turned to Walter was visibly bloodshot, watery and haunted, and Walter felt the beating of his heart accelerate at this unexpected vulnerability.

He clamped a strong hand on Ryan's shoulder and squeezed. "My car's this way."

* * *

Walter and Ryan rode in companionable silence for awhile, Ryan with his elbow on the arm rest, holding up his head. Walter cast surreptitious glances at his passenger from time to time, noting the latter's pallor, occasional cough, and obvious fatigue. Belatedly, he remembered that Ryan had just come off of working a double.

"Hey, uh, Ryan," Walter began, as he cast about ways to phrase his thoughts without igniting the other's ire. "How about if I drop you off at home and then I'll pick up your medication. I can hit a grocery store for you at the same time." He left off the part about Ryan looking like death warmed over.

When Ryan didn't answer right away, Walter steeled himself for another barrage of fury. But when none came, he cast a glance at his friend. "Ry?"

"Mmm?" Ryan blinked open his left eye. "Yeah?" he replied, voice thick with sleep.

Walter chuckled. "Go back to sleep, Ryan."

With effort, Walter maneuvered his sleepy co-worker out of his car and up two flights of stairs. After depositing Ryan on his living room sofa, Walter slipped off his friend's shoes and covered him with Bubbe's blanket.

Walter frowned. A Ryan Wolfe that allowed someone to enter his apartment without putting up a fight and/or dusting the place was a first. _He must be really out of it._ Ryan still hadn't disclosed exactly what was going on with his health and Walter worried that he might be out of his depth in terms of his care. He rested his wrist across Ryan's warm and sweaty forehead, trying to gauge whether the man had a fever. His best guess was that he did, but it wasn't dangerously high.

"Thanks, mom," Ryan mumbled.

Walter cocked an eye at the drowsy man. _There's no way I can leave him alone like this. And I need to get his medication._ He located Ryan's land line, remembering that his friend kept several numbers on speed dial.

"Dr. Woods?" he said, as soon as the woman had picked up. "Yeah, this is Walter from the crime lab. I'm at Wolfe's place and he's not looking too good." At her question, he replied, "I don't know exactly. He saw Dr. Medby and she's got him on some kind of ..." He scrambled around for the scripts. "Antivirals and antibiotics. Does that sound right, taking those together? I need to run by the drugstore and get these prescriptions filled but I don't want to leave him here alone. He's kinda out of it." At her response, he smiled. "Okay, thanks."

He whispered to the sleeping man. "Wolfe, you don't know how lucky you are to be getting this house call."

* * *

Anybody recognize where Walter's last line comes from? It was a popular TV show in the '70s.


	4. Chapter 4

My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading and to CSIMiamiFAN for commenting on the last chapter. I have no idea where the comments for this story are going, but please know that I am getting them by email even if they aren't showing up on the site. And I do appreciate them!

For those wondering, the last line in the previous chapter was a nod to M*A*S*H. I think Hawkeye said it.

And now, on with the story! Not mine, don't sue.

* * *

Ryan attempted to stretch and abruptly realized that he had been sleeping on his living room sofa. Opening his eyes - eye - threw him into a panic. Reaching up, he gently touched the gauze and tried to remember how it got there. _I came home from court and I fell asleep on the sofa ..._

"Hey, Handsome." His thoughts were interrupted by a warm Southern drawl. "How're you feeling?"

His good eye travelled over to his armchair, where Calleigh Duquesne sat in the lotus position wearing a white T-shirt and yoga pants. Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she had a magazine open in her lap. He looked at the can of Diet Coke sitting neatly on a coaster on the coffee table and wondered how long she'd been sitting in his living room, watching him sleep.

"What're you doing here?" His mouth felt like dry cotton. As he struggled to sit, Calleigh rushed to his side.

"Hey, no quick movements, Ryan, okay?" As his stomach lurched unhappily, he had the sudden image of Alexx holding a trash can near his head as he vomited. _Alexx was here?_

"You were pretty sick earlier. Do you think you can take your medicine now?" When he nodded, she hurried into the kitchen. He heard the sounds of cupboards opening and ice clinking in a glass. Soon, a cup of white soda was in his hands. "Sip this," Calleigh instructed, handing him a tablet.

As Ryan swallowed the pill and took small sips of soda, he tried to remember the rest of his day. _Walter and Eric came over and took me to the eye doctor ..._ A flash of nausea accompanied that thought. He set the glass down, sans coaster, and put his head in his hands.

He felt the sofa cushions dip on one side of him, and soon a cool washcloth touched the back of his neck. "Shh, Ryan, it's okay. You're going to be okay," Calleigh soothed.

He found himself slumping toward her touch, falling into her arms for comfort. He felt vaguely ridiculous, craving her reassurance this way. But he was shivering and scared and ill and she was warm and solid and comforting. A soft kiss graced his temple. "Oh, Ryan," Calleigh whispered. "I hate to see you like this. Why didn't you tell anyone you were so sick?"

He felt her hands gently stroking his back, and wondered again how long she'd been there. She'd never answered him and he was having trouble remembering anything past the doctor's office.

 _Walter and I had a fight and then he drove me home ..._ Before he could finish the thought, Ryan had fallen asleep.

* * *

When Ryan woke next, sunlight was streaming around the edges of the curtains in his living room. He sat up experimentally and was glad to find that the nausea had lessened. Finding a tepid glass of soda on the coffee table, he took a small sip. Immediately, his thoughts flashed to Calleigh and he could feel his cheeks warm. _She held me last night and rocked me to sleep! How am I ever going to live that down?_

"Ryan! You're awake!" Natalia's perky voice sounded from the doorway to the kitchen. "Do you want some jell-O?"

Ryan blinked at her, surprising himself when he answered, "Yeah. Thanks." _When did Natalia get here? Where's Calleigh? And Alexx? And why don't I remember any of this?_

Natalia disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared to hand him a small bowl and a spoon. He raked his eyes over her. She was wearing faded jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. For once, she wore her long brown hair in a ponytail and Ryan could see her hearing aid. _Definitely not heading to work then._

He wrinkled his brow and tried to think. "Why? How?" He shook his head and rubbed his left eye. "Ugh." He tried a taste of red gelatin and found it surprisingly good, which, coupled with his inability to form complete sentences, gave him a pretty clear picture of just how far gone he was.

She sat down next to him on the sofa and pulled out her cell phone. "I've got to call Alexx, Ry. She wanted to know when you woke up."

He listened to his friend on the phone. Natalia had been there, she said, since 6 am. He squinted at the small clock on the mantle over the fireplace. _10 am. So, Natalia's been here four hours and Calleigh was here before that ..._ He shook his head, wondering why he was having such a hard time thinking straight.

"Ryan?" He hadn't realized that Natalia had ended the call until she spoke.

He blinked at her, wishing he was wearing his contacts. Maybe if his vision cleared, his fuzzy thinking would disappear too. But he had a sudden memory of Dr. Medby telling him not to wear his contacts until the infection had cleared. And he was definitely not wearing his glasses in front of Natalia. Which left him squinting at her, wishing he could see her properly.

"Alexx is going to be here in about twenty minutes. She's going to check you over." She bit her lip and patted his blanket-covered knee. "You really gave us a scare." At his blank look, she added, "Walter called Alexx after he got you home from the eye doctor's. Apparently, you've got some kind of virus plus a bacterial infection. Your fever spiked before the medicine kicked in. Alexx didn't think you should be alone and then Walter got called in to help cover the night shift. Eric couldn't come because he was working a double on that Roberts case, so Calleigh stayed with you overnight." She paused, seemingly to make sure that he was following her story. After he nodded, she continued. "And then I got here." She smiled at him.

"Aren't you ..." He stumbled over the words. "Why aren't you at work?"

She frowned and crinkled her brow. "You needed one of us to be here."

"So, you took the day off?" He wanted to argue with her, to tell her that he didn't need a nursemaid, but if her story was any indication, maybe he did.

"Yeah." She resumed smiling at him. "I wanted to watch talk shows and soap operas with you." Natalia picked up the remote and clicked on the television. Ryan studied the blurry TV for a moment before closing his good eye. Within minutes, he had drifted back off.


	5. Chapter 5

My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading and to CSIMiamiFan for reviewing the previous chapter. As always, I don't own this and any remaining errors are mine. Note: I am not a doctor. If you think Ryan needs better medical care, let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading!

* * *

A pounding on the door woke Ryan, and he jerked his head from Natalia's shoulder in surprise. _I fell asleep again? On Nat?_ He could feel the blush creep into his cheeks.

The woman in question squeezed his shoulder as she stood up. "I need to get that, Ry." As she walked to the door and opened it for the doctor, Ryan mused that his apartment hadn't seen this much activity, well, ever. The only regular guest, besides Ryan and a handful of plants, was his pet rat Henry. Ryan felt a fleeting sense of relief that the animal was currently at the pet sitter's; his schedule had been so crazy lately that he had wanted the rat to have some company. It was a stroke of good luck in an otherwise bad day; he was in no way capable of caring for anyone or anything else right now.

"Baby." Alexx was kneeling in front of him, shining a penlight into his unbandaged eye. She stuck an ear thermometer in his left ear; when it beeped, she frowned at the results. "Your fever's lower, but it's still too high. Have you been able to keep anything down?"

Natalia called from the kitchen. "I got him to eat some jell-O."

The doctor sat next to Ryan on the sofa. "I need to check your eye, honey." She pulled the gauze from his face slowly. The sudden influx of light brought a sharp pain, and Ryan gasped before he could stop himself. "Oh, Baby," Alexx whispered. "Why do you do this to yourself?" In a louder, more composed voice, she said, "Natalia, honey, go get a washcloth and soak it in warm water. He needs a compress for this eye."

Ryan lay back on the sofa cushions, fighting a wave of vertigo and a tsunami of panic. _Dr. Medby said this might not work. And if it doesn't work ..._

Alexx had a trash can at the ready, doubly lined with fresh bags, when Ryan threw up again. Her hand rubbed circles of comfort on his back before propelling him into a reclining position. He felt something warm and wet cover his right eye and the relief was immediate. "Thanks, Alexx," he mumbled.

"Don't thank me yet, Baby. Open your left eye for me, please." He did, and a large glop of goo entered his field of vision. "Close it now, Sweetie. Okay, Ryan, I'm going to remove the compress for a minute. I need to get the ointment into your right eye. I know it hurts to open it, tough guy, so I'll be as fast as I can. But I need you to keep your eye open for me, okay?"

Ryan felt a warm hand in his and he knew that Natalia was seated on his other side. As much as he hated feeling this vulnerable, it was a comfort to have her close. She was his best friend, even closer than Walter, and that was saying something. Ryan tried to think about Walter's jokes as he opened his right eye. The pain that followed wasn't quite as blinding this time, but he could feel his eye tearing. He felt a dollop of ointment enter that eye as well, and he was feeling better about everything when it occurred to him that he was seeing very little out of that eye. His entire body shuddered. Natalia squeezed his hand and he felt Alexx replace the compress. It was a relief to have both eyes closed.

"Alexx?" Ryan hated the weak and whiny sound of his voice.

"Yes, Baby?"

"I ... " He hated to say it, but he had to tell her. "I can't see much with my right eye." He swallowed over the lump in his throat and he heard Natalia sniff.

"I'm not surprised, Ryan. Your eye is very red and swollen. I'm going to call Dr. Medby now. If you don't show some improvement very soon, you are going straight to the hospital." Her tone brooked no argument. "I need your permission to discuss your medical status with her. I want to talk with her about your medication."

"Okay." Ryan's voice was small. He heard Natalia sniff again, and this time, he squeezed her hand.

* * *

"Horatio? Our baby's in trouble."

The redheaded lieutenant stopped pacing the halls of the crime lab and focused all of his attention on his cell phone. He didn't have to ask whom she was talking about; the only member of his team unaccounted for was Ryan. "Talk to me, Alexx."

"It's not good, Horatio. He's got another infection in that right eye. Even if he clears it, he might be left with corneal scarring. Or worse."

Horatio winced. Ryan already had scarring in that eye, a fact that the young man had managed to keep hidden from his co-workers by using a specially modified contact lens. "Where is he now?"

"He's resting at home. Natalia's with him." Alexx chuckled. "She'll keep him in line."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Horatio found himself with a small grin. "I thought it was odd when she called in sick today."

He could hear the smile in Alexx's reply. "They're good for each other. I only hope they don't wait as long as Eric and Calleigh did." There was silence on the line as the two old friends pondered the star-crossed lovers of the Miami-Dade crime lab.

"Is there anything you need from me, Alexx?"

"I should get back to work, Horatio. I've spoken with Dr. Medby and we're going to try adding a corticosteroid drop to see if we can get that eye to calm down. I'd send him to the hospital now if I didn't think it would trigger a panic attack. He needs to stay quiet and rest more than anything. Can you send someone over to Delgado's to pick up his medication?"

"I'll take care of it myself. Thank you, ma'am."

"Call me if anything changes, Horatio. Keep a close eye on his fever. His temp's around 100 degrees right now. If it goes up at all, I want to know immediately."

After ending the call, Horatio strode into Ballistics to inform Calleigh that he needed to head out and that she was in charge for the day.

The blond woman stood in her lab, staring blearily at a bullet with her head to one side. She yawned and nodded. "Okay."

The redhead tipped his head at her. "Are you all right?"

Calleigh straightened and blinked at him. "I'm fine, Horatio. Just tired. I had to ... uh ..." She tucked her hair behind her ears and turned away before continuing. "A friend of mine needed my help last night."

H folded his arms and regarded her. "And how is Mr. Wolfe?"

Her green eyes widened in surprise as they met his steel blue ones. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I've never seen him that sick before, Horatio."

H nodded, absorbing that information. "I'm headed over there now. Alexx wants me to pick up some new medication for him. If I can convince her to leave, I'll send Natalia your way."

Calleigh's smile brightened her entire face. "I wouldn't count on that. Nat's pretty stubborn where Ryan's concerned."

He returned a faint smile. "So I've heard."


	6. Chapter 6

A big thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading and a tip of the hat to CSIMiamiFAN, NickTonyK, BlueDiamondStar, and 0weallfalldown0 for commenting on the previous chapter. Sadly, I only own the errors in the text. None of these characters are mine, except the other patrons and employees of Delgado's Pharmacy.

* * *

Horatio Caine stood in line at Delgado's Pharmacy and studied the people before him. The balding older man had a deep, dry cough. _A lifelong smoker_ , Horatio thought, noting the man's nicotine-stained fingernails. At the head of the line stood a young mother with unkempt blonde hair clutching the arm of a tiny girl with wide brown eyes. Horatio caught the girl's gaze, held it, and nodded. Children had always been drawn to him, even before he had become a patrol cop. Maybe it was the fiery hair, perhaps it was the intense blue gaze. _Or maybe_ , the lieutenant pondered, _it's because they sense a kindred spirit._

Uncharacteristically, Horatio sighed. Young Ryan Wolfe had sensed that, too, and had seen the man behind the mask despite Horatio's best efforts to conceal himself. _Calling Ryan "Mr. Wolfe" for so many years has likely done more harm than good, but really, what choice do I have?_ Horatio wondered. He felt he had to add some distance between them or he couldn't work with the man. Alexx had accused him of seeing too much of himself in Ryan, but that wasn't the real reason Horatio struggled with his young protégé, alternately favoring and distancing him.

 _Ryan reminds me so much of Ray. Good cops, but magnets for trouble._ Ryan had his gambling addiction; Ray had chosen narcotics. Their names were so similar, Horatio was afraid he might slip up at work one day and call Ryan by his brother's name. _And how would that look?_ Horatio Caine wasn't supposed to feel anything; he was the face of the MDPD Crime Lab, impassive, calculating, and not - decidedly not - emotional.

And yet, when Ryan had been caught in that tornado a few months ago, all Horatio could think was that he had to find the young man and protect him. He had driven Eric and himself straight into the eye of a twister. _What in the hell was I thinking?_ he wondered now. Seeing Ryan bloodied, battered, and barely breathing in the aftermath had brought back horrible memories of finding Ray on the brink of death in Brazil, strung up by Antonio Riaz. Once Ryan had been claimed by the paramedics, Horatio had allowed himself one deep, shuddering breath before turning his attention back to his crime scene. He doubted that anyone else had witnessed that huge lapse of control, and for this, Horatio Caine was deeply grateful. How could he possibly explain that his tough love approach to Ryan was a desperate attempt to make amends for failing his brother Ray?

When his turn came, Horatio recited Ryan's full name and birthdate for the pharmacy tech, a quirky girl barely into her twenties with braces, purple hair, and a wide smile. She handed over Ryan's prescription eye drops with a bob of her head. "Tell Ryan I said hi, okay?" Horatio simply studied the girl, committing her face to memory. Not getting a response from the older man, the young woman rambled on, "We missed seeing him yesterday. Ryan comes in at the same time every week. I hope he's not feeling too bad."

This time, Horatio politely dipped his head. "I'll tell him. Thank you, ma'am."

* * *

When his knock upon the third floor apartment door wasn't immediately answered, Horatio Caine reached for his key ring. Stetler had accused him more than once of being overly protective of his subordinates, and Horatio mused that the man might have had a point. In addition to Ryan's spare house key, he had ones for Eric, Calleigh, Jesse, and Frank. But Frank's didn't really count - they weren't even in the same chain-of-command. As for Jesse ... Horatio hadn't remembered to turn his key over to anyone at the time of the man's death, and now, it seemed disloyal to remove it from his key ring. Eric and Calleigh's spare keys he'd had for years. There had been a time when he had thought something might come of his relationship with his feisty blond second-in-command, but the timing had never quite worked out and now it looked as though it never would. Once Eric had shown how deeply he cared for the ballistics expert, Horatio had backed off. _One day soon,_ he thought, _Eric and Calleigh will only need one key._

Slipping into the dimly lit apartment, Horatio was reminded that Ryan's eyes were sensitive to light. He smelled antiseptic mixed with coffee; an odd combination, but not an unpleasant one. His eyes were drawn to a figure bundled on the sofa with a compress over his eyes: Ryan. The young man appeared to be asleep and Horatio released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. The sound of women's laughter caught his attention and he moved toward the kitchen.

"And then, the man said -" Alexx broke off mid-sentence and rewarded him with a smile. "Horatio, honey, I didn't hear you come in."

Natalia sputtered over her coffee. "H! I ... I didn't expect to see you here." The guilty look on her face amused Horatio, not that he would ever tell her that.

"Alexx." He tipped his head at the doctor before turning to his CSI. "Ms. Boa Vista. I trust that you're feeling better?" He pretended to study the floor as he hid the smile.

"I ... I was ... Ryan -"

He met her eyes. "I understand. But I need you back at the crime lab. There's quite a backlog and I expect to be out for the rest of the day, possibly tomorrow as well."

Natalia's gaze flicked in the direction of the living room, and Horatio read an interesting mix of emotions in her eyes before she responded, a touch of defiance coloring her tone. "Ryan needs someone to stay with him, Horatio. I can't leave him here alone."

He gave her a half smile. "I never said you had to, Natalia. I took the day off to stay with Mr. Wolfe."

Natalia nodded. "Oh. Okay." She hugged Alexx before ducking into Ryan's living room, and he heard her saying goodbye to the young man on the sofa. There was no response, so presumably Ryan was still asleep.

Alexx flashed Horatio a smile as soon as the front door had closed behind Natalia, and handed him a notebook. "We need to talk about Ryan's medication schedule."

* * *

After Natalia left, Ryan lay quietly with his eyes closed and listened to Alexx in the kitchen discussing his medical status with Horatio in cold, clinical terms. He shuddered. They all had to be able to turn off their emotions when they needed to, but Ryan found it hard when the case they were discussing was his own.

"These are the warning signs, Horatio. An increase in fever, a prolonged inability to keep any food down ..."

Ryan's stomach lurched unhappily as he listened to Alexx rattle off a lengthy list of potential pitfalls. His mind was still poring over every possible bad outcome when he felt the doctor lift the compress from his eyes.

She had a drop in the corner of his right eye before he could even register what she was doing. "Open your eye for me, Ryan." He complied, hissing from the pain as the drop slid in. He could barely open the lid; it felt like his right eye had a weight on top of it. "Now keep it open. I'm going to put the ointment in too." A smear entered the little vision he had and Ryan fought to remain in control as all input from that eye went completely white.

"I need to get a dab of this in your good eye, too, honey." Alexx patted him gently on the shoulder as she dosed his other eye. "Okay, that wasn't too bad, was it?" She proceeded to tell Horatio to be careful not to cross-contaminate his eyes with the ointment; the tip should never touch his eyes lest the infection spread to the other eye. Right now, she explained, they were treating his left eye as a precautionary measure.

Ryan closed both eyes and fought to control his breathing. His mind was lurching back and forth from one disastrous future scenario to another. He could visualize himself, completely blind, relying upon a drooling, shedding, seeing eye dog. Partially blind, restricted to the lab, trying desperately not to break the glassware or ruin the samples as he struggled to complete the most basic of tasks. Completely recovered, but waiting for the next infection to take him down. He hadn't realized that Alexx had said goodbye until she left with a slam of the door, leaving a ringing stillness in her wake.


	7. Chapter 7

My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading and to 0weallfalldown0 for commenting on the previous chapter. I own none of this, save the heavy doses of angst & hurt/comfort in this chapter. :)

* * *

Ryan lay still for a long time after Alexx left. He could hear Horatio puttering around in his apartment - doing what, Ryan wasn't quite sure - and it made him feel edgy. He tried to relax his tense muscles. Showing weakness in front of Alexx was still hard, but she was like a mother to him and he knew she loved him. Knowing he had been so weak before his co-workers was more difficult for Ryan to accept. And Horatio ... Ryan did not want to appear weak before his boss. Ever.

 _What if I disappoint the man? H might cut me loose._ Ryan suspected that he was letting his anxieties get the better of him, but somehow, he just couldn't help himself. _My eye isn't getting better. Horatio probably knows that already; he's just waiting for the right time to fire me._

The ill CSI tried to convince himself that the man really did care, that Ryan was more than a replaceable cog in Miami's police machinery. He reminded himself that Horatio had been the one to find him after the tornado and H had even taken the time to check up on him while he was being treated in the ER. If he was completely honest with himself, Ryan knew that despite the man's tough exterior, Horatio Caine really did care for him. But the thought only made him more uneasy.

Ryan craved Horatio's reassurance, needed the calming influence that he knew that the man could provide. But he couldn't bring himself to ask for help. If he did, that would mean that this horrible nightmare was true - he was on the verge of going blind. Cursing his own weakness, the sick and weary man tried in vain to stop his swirling thoughts. He hated being dependent upon anyone for anything.

 _But I could go blind ..._

"I'm afraid, H." Ryan whispered the words into the near stillness of his living room, half hoping that his mentor wouldn't hear him, half desperately wishing that he would.

He strained his ears waiting for a reply, only hearing the faint tick of the clock by the mantle in response. Finally, Horatio spoke. "Mr. Wolfe, you will always have a job in my crime lab."

"Even if I can't see to shoot straight?" The words came out wobbly and rushed, and Ryan realized with a burst of anxiety that he was on the verge of a panic attack. _This is bad. Very bad._

He felt the sofa cushions dip as Horatio sat beside him. "Even then, Ryan." His boss' voice was soft and gentle. "What did the doctor say?"

Ryan shook his head, but he thought better of it as the nausea returned. "I think I'm gonna be sick, H."

He felt Horatio lift the compress off his face. Ryan opened his eyes to find a small trash can had been thrust into his hands. Horatio was kneeling mere inches from him, studying his eyes.

Ryan tried to meet his gaze, but it was hard to focus. "What?" He swallowed hard, attempting to keep the nausea at bay.

The older man smiled. "Your eye was almost swollen shut before. You've opened it. I think the new medication is helping, Ryan. The swelling is going down."

A torrent of emotions flooded Ryan at that moment, and his bloodshot hazel eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. He couldn't let Horatio see him cry. With a grunt, Ryan forced himself to stand, swaying on his feet. He gripped the bucket tighter as the nausea returned with a vengeance.

Horatio was up in a flash, a hand on his shoulder. "Whoa, hold on there, partner. Where're you going?"

"Bathroom," Ryan ground out, fighting hard not to throw up or cry.

"All right, then. Here we go. Easy. Easy." Horatio guided Ryan down the hall, one arm across his back, the other holding the little trash can for him.

As soon as he was in the bathroom, Ryan shut the door, locked Horatio out, and dropped in front of the toilet. His breath came in sharp gulps as he began to cry out from the pain and fear. Gripping the toilet seat, he threw up.

* * *

Horatio leaned against the bathroom door, arms folded, a deep frown on his face. When he heard Ryan retching, his heart wrenched. Trying the door knob, he found it locked.

"Ryan? Are you all right?"

He knew Ryan wasn't all right. Horatio could hear the young man's breaths growing faster and shallower. Within minutes, Ryan would be in the vise grip of a panic attack with no one able to help him.

"Son, I need you to open this door right now!" It was Horatio Caine's command voice, and he prayed that Ryan's training would override his embarrassment and force him to comply.

He counted the seconds before he heard a shuffling noise on the other side. Wordlessly, the lock released and Horatio rushed in. Ryan was curled into a ball on the bathroom tile, knees to his nose, arms wrapped around his legs, trembling. He gave H a panicked look. "I ... " he gasped. "Can't." Another gasp. "Breathe."

Horatio sat on the floor beside him and drew the young man into his arms. "It's okay, Ryan. I'm here. You're all right. It's going to be okay. Just breathe, Ryan. Just breathe."

* * *

Awareness crept back slowly. As the roaring in his ears receded, Ryan first noticed the dripping of the bathroom faucet - plink! plink! plink! - and he made a mental note to fix it as soon as possible. He scanned the small room with blurry eyes; thankfully, his world was slightly clearer now and he could open his right eye more than a crack. With that happy realization came the awareness that he felt safe and protected, as if he was a small child in his parent's arms. The last time Ryan could remember feeling that way was years ago, before his sister had died. He abruptly pulled away from the warmth.

"Ryan." H's voice sounded in his ear: deep, calm, reassuring. "It's all right. You're okay."

He realized that Horatio had been holding him and repeating these words for some time now. _How long has it been?_ Ryan felt the heat rise in his cheeks at the thought of his boss seeing him in such a weakened state.

"H," Ryan croaked, his voice thick and raspy. "I'm sorry." He moved to stand up, but Horatio held him fast.

"Hold on, Ryan. I don't want you to pass out. Let's take this slowly, okay?" It was not a question.

Ryan nodded and Horatio helped him to stand. The head rush was immediate. Ryan felt his knees buckle and he swayed on his feet, but the older man held him steady. After a few minutes, the dizziness receded and the redhead loosened his hold. Ryan crept forward and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Even without his contacts in, he could see that he was deathly pale, with dark shadows circling each eye. His right eye was less swollen than he remembered, though, and it appeared pink now instead of blood red. His greasy hair was matted flat to his head and his shirt was sweat-stained and rumpled. In all, as Uncle Ron liked to say, he looked like death on a cracker.

"I need a shower."

Horatio chuckled. "That sounds like a fine idea, Mr. Wolfe." His voice grew serious. "Can you manage by yourself?" Ryan nodded and met his mentor's eyes. The older man gave him an appraising look. "I'd like to get some fresh clothes for you."

There was a question in that statement, and Ryan realized that Horatio was treading gently so as not to trigger his OCD. The younger man took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Closet, green hangers. Sweats and a T-shirt. I've got underwear and socks in the top drawer." He turned away before Horatio could see him blush. Just the thought of H rummaging through his underwear drawer was humiliating. At least he knew his boss was neat and wouldn't move anything out of place. He stepped into the shower and turned on the water as hot as he could tolerate.

When the bathroom was good and steamy and the water temperature had faded to lukewarm, Ryan finally felt a sense of relief. He was no longer grimy and sweaty, two sensations that always set his teeth on edge. Calleigh had made fun of him on more than one occasion for having multiple spare sets of clothes in his locker at the lab, but frankly, he'd needed to change twice in one day far more often than he cared to admit. Dumpster diving, chasing suspects, explosions, fire ... in Ryan's opinion, the CSI team was a magnet for dirt.

He stepped out of the shower to find that Horatio had not only left him a clean set of clothes in a neat pile, he'd also brought a fluffy bath towel straight from the dryer. Ryan draped himself in the warmth. Being cared for was foreign to him, and Ryan felt an odd mix of comfort and trepidation. He dressed slowly, not wanting the bubble of safety to burst. Soon enough, he would have to face his boss - the man who had witnessed his meltdown - and accept the consequences of his actions.

 _I should resign_ , he thought, miserably, _before H has to fire me._


	8. Chapter 8

My thanks to Gooniegirl3333 for beta-reading. I appreciate it!

Thanks also to Shorty1994gmail, Guest, codenameL, NickTonyK, and 0weallfalldown0 for your comments on the last chapter, and thanks to everyone for following & favoriting. It means a lot.

Hope you like this chapter! Not mine, except for any errors.

* * *

Ryan dressed slowly. The feel of clean cotton against his skin was like a soothing balm; he felt like he'd been trapped in filth and grime for days. _Nothing like stewing in your own sweat_ , he thought with distaste, but it couldn't have been avoided. He'd been too sick to shower earlier, and even now he was growing light-headed the longer he stood in the steamy bathroom.

Fully dressed in a faded Green Lantern T-shirt, dark blue sweats, and warm white gym socks, Ryan wiped away the condensation on the mirror with the edge of his towel. His eye really did look better. Instead of angry red, the sclera had faded to a pale pink. Ryan took a deep breath and closed his left eye. Peering out of his right, he exhaled and gripped the sink to keep from swaying. He could see. Granted, things were blurry and out of focus, but that was normal since the nail gun injury.

Ryan exited the bathroom and padded slowly down the hall, relieved that Horatio wasn't hovering just outside of the bathroom door. He caught the scent of soup warming on the stove, and his stomach rumbled. He'd head downstairs in a minute; he needed to check on something first.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ryan opened the nightstand and pulled out a leather case. Opening it, he studied the pair of glasses in his hand. The right lens was thick and wavy to accommodate the corneal scarring he'd acquired from the nail gun injury. The left lens was nearly plain glass. Ryan seldom wore his glasses in public and never at work. The discrepancy between the two lenses made his eyes appear to be different sizes, something that drove his OCD crazy. He could see better in contact lenses, anyway.

But he couldn't wear his contacts until the infection had cleared, and he just had to know right now. Putting his glasses on, he closed his left eye and stared around the room using his right eye.

 _Can I see as well as before? Has the scarring gotten worse? Am I going to need surgery?_

"Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan's right eye focused on the red-haired lieutenant standing in the doorway of his bedroom. _Damn, that man can be stealthy._ His left eye popped open. "H." He whipped his glasses off and put them back in the case.

"Ryan." H tipped his head slightly. Moving across the room in a single fluid motion, he sat on the bed beside his employee. "How is your eye?"

Ryan shrugged. "Better." He stood up. "I appreciate you making me soup, Horatio," Ryan said softly, as he walked toward the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Horatio asked. Still seated on Ryan's bed, he held out the glasses case to the young man.

Ryan pursed his lips and nodded as he turned, accepting the leather case. He didn't put the glasses back on.

Horatio hadn't moved from the bed. "What did Dr. Medby say?"

"I see her tomorrow." Ryan put the case in his pocket and folded his arms, studying the floor.

"That's not what I asked, Mr. Wolfe."

Ryan stared at the two blurry images of Horatio and rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this. Not now. Not with Horatio. Tamping down a rising sense of panic, Ryan focused on his breathing. He hadn't realized that he'd closed his eyes until he felt Horatio's arm around his shoulder, leading him back to the bed.

"Sit down, son." It was only then that Ryan noticed he was shaking.

"Now, what did the doctor say?" Horatio's voice was calm but firm. His arm gripped Ryan's shoulder.

"I may need a corneal transplant," Ryan blurted out. He swallowed hard. "It depends upon how bad the scarring is now and whether she can still correct for it with lenses."

"So, you were checking your vision using your glasses," Horatio mused. "And what did you determine?"

Ryan shook his head. "I can't tell. I've still got medication in my eyes. Everything's blurry." He shuddered. "I can't talk about this any more, H."

Horatio nodded. "Let's have lunch."

* * *

Horatio sat across from Ryan at the small kitchen table, watching the younger man eat his homemade chicken soup. He studied the crease between Ryan's eyes, the tense way the man gripped his spoon, the rigid set to his shoulders. It was clear to the lieutenant that Ryan was still upset. Horatio decided to try and draw him out.

"How's the soup?"

His charge looked up, briefly. "It's good, H. Thank you." Ryan politely sipped another spoonful and returned his eyes to the table.

"Mr. Wolfe -" Ryan looked up again. This time, Horatio could see the man stiffen at the use of his surname. He tried another tactic. "Ryan. I want you to know that you can talk to me. About anything."

As the dark-haired man nodded but didn't reply, Horatio sighed. _Why is it so much easier to talk to children_ , he wondered. He recalled a conversation he'd once had with Yelina about Ryan, one in which he had mentioned his CSI's inability to ask for help or admit to any kind of weakness or error. Yelina, noting Horatio's frustration, had laughed. "Sounds just like you, Horatio," she had said. "Just talk to him."

Looking at Ryan now, Horatio searched the small, tiny kitchen for inspiration. How could he convey to this young man that he wasn't going anywhere, that Ryan could depend upon him for support? Before he could think of a way to phrase it, Ryan spoke.

"I'll turn in my resignation on Monday," he said in a low voice. Walking his soup bowl to the sink, Ryan began to wash it out.

Horatio stood to face him, astonished. "What are you talking about, Mr. Wolfe?"

Again, Ryan tensed, and H made a mental note that he really needed to stop calling the man by his last name. "Horatio, you don't want me on your team." Ryan spoke to the sink. "I'm a liability." Gingerly, Ryan walked from the room, sat down on the living room sofa, and closed his eyes. Tears leaked out anyway.

Horatio followed him into the living room and sat down on the coffee table facing Ryan. "I know things seem overwhelming right now, partner, but we're gonna get through this, okay?"

Ryan wiped his eyes. He shook his head and looked sadly at Horatio before studying the floor. "I love being a criminalist, H, I really do." He lifted his watery hazel gaze to meet Horatio's intense blue stare. "But I'm not sure how much longer I can do this."

The redhead waited patiently for Ryan to continue.

Swallowing hard, Ryan tried to rein in his emotions. "My eye ... It's never going to get better, H. I'm susceptible to infections now. Even if I get through this one okay, Dr. Medby says it's likely to recur. Someday, I'm gonna need surgery. It's just a matter of when."

Horatio sighed. "I'm sorry, Ryan."

The younger man nodded. "I'll come in and get my things as soon as -"

"Ryan," Horatio interrupted. "You don't need to resign. You're an important part of my team."

"But -"

"There's no reason you can't continue to work for me," the older man continued, "as long as you keep me appraised of your condition." He paused. "You are correct about one thing, though. If your vision continues to decline, you will eventually be forced to hand in your badge. But, even then, you can still be a criminalist."

"A one-eyed criminalist, H? How would that work?" Ryan folded his arms and gave the redhead his best skeptical look.

Horatio smiled at seeing a spark of spunk return to his underling. "My best CSIs all have their Achilles' heels. Calleigh has weak lungs. Natalia wears a hearing aid. And need I remind you that Eric has bullet fragments in his brain? We'll work around this, Ryan. I do not want you to worry about your job. We'll make this work."

Ryan swallowed. "Okay, H."

"Stop borrowing trouble, Mr. Wolfe. All right? Let's wait to hear what the doctor has to say."


End file.
